Aurors I: Unfinished Business
by Mikei
Summary: Four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Magical World is still facing the threat of Dark Magic. The Aurors stand as the defenders of order and justice. However, the greatest threat may not come from outside, but from inner demons of revenge...
1. Chapter 1: Its not over

The battle was lost and Avery knew it

The battle was lost and Avery knew it.

With a roar, fresh reinforcements surged down the main stairs into the Hogwarts entrance hall and House Elves swept up from the dungeons. From the main doors, the Death Eaters were falling back in their droves, overwhelmed by the enraged adversaries. Harry Potter's miraculous resurrection had galvanised the defenders with a fire the Death Eaters could not match. Even Avery's master seemed afraid. Even now Avery could see him, the greatest wizard of the age, duelling his way to the Great Hall, leaving his loyal followers to die in his name. He fought with unmatched skill, but it was this a skilful retreat. Well, enough was enough.

All thought of escape was cut from his mind as a student, leapt in front of him and hurled a stunning spell at him. Parrying it easily, Avery whirled his wand on the youth and sent his frail corpse. The light of the spell danced eerily in the boys widening eyes, before his frail corpse was sent flying in a burst of green light. Then another student, a girl, her eyes again wide in rage and fear and screaming so terribly that it almost curdled Avery's blood, hurled herself in front of the Death Eater.

Another flash and her life was carried up like an autumn leaf in a breeze. It wasn't personal, he needn't to survive and if they insisted on making themselves martyrs. This battle would make martyrs of them all, but not him.

Where was Harry Potter? Even in the midst of this final dreadful stand, Avery's mind worked frantically at that question. What tricky concealed him? If the Chosen One found him, he was done for, no magic could reawaken the dead and yet his master and Potter had both returned to life. Two wizards of such power deserved to face and die against each other.

And where was the boy? That insolent mudblood, through whose veins ran so hot with a desire for vengeance that it drove him to seek Avery in this charnel house.Well no matter how pertinent those questions were, he wasn't going to wait around to indulge his curiousity. Voldemort had failed, and one way or the other Avery's blood was wanted. Someone would kill him if he stayed, maybe even the boy…His thoughts paused for a moment as a couple of house elves decided to cross his path, but a quick Cruciartous Curse dispatched them both. The dungeons would offer a concealed and lightly defended way out of the castle. He would live to fight another day.

Avery faltered in his first couple of steps. At the top of the entrance steps stood a youth, little more than seventeen, clad in a blasted, bloodied and torn Gryffindor uniform. He might have been indistinguishable from the masses locked in battle around him, if he wasn't standing stock still, a look of pure hatred fixed on Avery. Here was a face the Deatheater knew, although it disturbed him that he should. Out of all his victims why should Xander Fellwier stand out? This flicker of doubt passed as the realisation than Xander would become indistinguishable from all of his other victims shortly dawned on Avery. Death was the great social leveller, and easer troublesome burdens.

Whisking his cloak around, Avery barrelled through a crowd of house elves, heading for the dungeon entrance, enticing his quarry to his death. Any good angler would tell you the importance of bait, and for Xander, Avery was irresistible.

Down the dark stairs, Avery plunged into the gloom of Hogwarts catacombs. As he ran the sound of the battle, the screams, the spells and clashes of the giants grew duller, until the sound of his footsteps, his heartbeat and his frantic pursuer were all that filled his ears. No use getting to far ahead or losing Fellwier, he had a job to finish. Only when the typical frantic stunning spell zoomed past his head, did Avery turned to face his pursuer, wand in hand.

Xander Fellwier pulled up some thirty feet from his pursuer, panting, red-faced, but wand levelled at Avery. His deep blue eyes brimmed with angry tears. His expression of pure rage tickled Avery a little, the boy had spirit, for all the good it was about to do him. Emotional killers always made mistakes.

"Well done," he smiled, the sultry tones of his mockery echoing down the hallway, "Well done. Now you can kill me."

Xander's wrist bang to shake as he took a step closer to Avery. Hot tears rolling down his face, as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Good, Avery thought, no need to Crucio him, he's torturing himself enough.

"Come on," Avery hissed, "Karmic realignment, tit for tat, and eye for an eye…"

Xander still advanced, but by now his steps were faltering and his wrist was shaking so violently he couldn't keep his aim steady. Now his opponent had his chance.

"You're going to rot in Azkaban…" he whispered, "Rot for a hundred years for what you did to me…to all those people…"

"All in the name of a noble cause my dear Mudblood," Avery smirked, "Expelliarmus!"

With a deft flick his wrist Xander's wand flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor in the glow behind him. But just as Avery raised his wand to deliver the Killing Curse, a cry of "XANDER!" rent the air. A girl with close cut black hair and pale skin was sprinting up the corridor behind Fellwier. Avery and Xander caught each others' eye, and one's widened in fear, whilst Avery's glinted as he switched his aim.

"Sectumsempra!"

"NO! IZZIE!"

Xander flung himself across the path of the curse. With a scream and a spurt of red he fell to the ground clutching his face. The girl, Izzie, wearing a blood stained and wrecked Hogwarts uniform, screamed and ran to his side, cradling his head. Just visible on her heaving chest was a Slytherin badge.

"Xan," she moaned, "Oh Xan…"

Avery's cackle rose even over the distant sounds of battle, as he pointed his wand at the two crouching figures. Time to savour this moment, the blood traitor Isabelle Keystone and her Mudblood. Good things really did come to those who waited…

"Avada…"

His moment was ruined by a colossal tremor which ran through the whole castle and the wild sounds of cheering from above. Avery hesitated, as a faint tingle ran through the mark on his forearm. His master…his master was…

"REDUCTO!"

The girl screamed the spell, before he'd even realised it. Hurled back in a rush of dust and fragments of stone as the roof of the passage was smashed by her curse, Avery landed hard on his back. Winded, he could just make on the dim huddled figures in the passage beyond, before a torrent of rocks blocked them from view. So she'd saved him, she dared to disgrace her heritage, her species for a common muggle-born boy…a little disappointing, but no matter…he was alive. Nor would he forget this, should he survive this day, Isabelle Keystone would be made to suffer.

However, there was sweet satisfaction in all this. He'd told Xander an eye for an eye, how sweetly ironic he'd got actually take his eye! A cracked smile spread over Avery's face, and his maniacal laughter filled the whole tunnel. Tears of sadistic joy mingled with the grim, dust and blood on his face. An eye for an eye, quite literally!

Rolling to his feet, he swept off down the corridor. So what if Xander was still alive? He'd killed the boy's parents easily enough. The boy would die in good time, and he needed a hobby to pursue in his exile. Now, where was that passage. Left of the torch bracket, and…

Leaning against the dank wall, Avery pushed on a stone. A whole section of wall slide how of sight revealing a dark, dank tunnel. With one last cackle he cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself to deal with any prying eyes. Even if the found out he was not among the dead or captured, it would be useless. Of course Fellwier could talk, in fact, if his face was still in the Daily Prophet in a couple of weeks, Avery would count it as a complement. He'd maimed Fellwier, next time he would kill him. No matter how long that took, it was worth looking forward to.

And after all, good things did come to those who waited…


	2. Chapter 2: Four Years Later

On the desk before her were two files. That was not to say that there were not other items on the desk, but these was arranged into two vastly out of proportion piles. The one to the left, tilted dangerous over Gwen's head, whilst the right one barely reached half an inch high. The rejected and the accepted. Although it had been four years since the end of the war, Auror recruitment standards had not suffered. There were plenty who were keen, but only a few who were capable.

This was the part of Gwendolyn Gurter's job that she loathed, final trainee selection. Typically, she had five available spaces, and six more than qualified candidates. The other twenty five or so had all given here the luxury of some infringement, major or minor which gave them the black mark she so desperately wanted to find in these last two. One candidate was unable to deal with a boggart because he could not think of anyway to make his mother in law any less frightening. Another had mixed up the ingredients of a quick antidote and grown goat horns when he'd taken it whilst on field work. Some, however, were less funny, the grossly inept duellists, compelled to sign up because they felt they needed pay back for the death of loved ones. Gwen sighed; all they were doing was heaping more bodies on the pyre.

Not that she was in any position to judge. She had only risen to be Head of the Auror Office but necessity or seniority. Either way, someone younger and better would soon over take her. However, in the meanwhile, there was no one. Maybe this realisation of an interim appointment explained the lack of personal items in her office. It was full of mahogany filing cabinets and shelves, brimming with the necessary files and folders, but this space wasn't her's, not really.

Still, she had a job to do in the meanwhile. The light of the solitary lamp in the room wasn't making reading these files any easier, the moving pictures seems to twist and bend in odd ways in the half light. In the end, Gwen drew her wand and lit the tip and held in close to the page for what had to be the thirteenth review of Isabelle Keystone's file.

Aged 21, a Slytherin graduate of Hogwarts, Isabelle had taken the typical Auror NEWTS and gained glowing results, O's and EE's. The first intrigue came in the form of the teacher reference, she had two. Horace Slughorn had written a brief, but praising account of her or rather her parents (Gwen knew he'd cultivated them in his time as a teacher). Oddly, the more extensive reference came from Minerva McGonagall, the head of _Gryffindor_.

_Isabelle displays great aptitude in all of her subjects, particularly Transfiguration and DADA. She has displayed particularly aptitude in object transfiguration and counter-curses. Miss Keystone's particularly speciality lies in the resistance of mental powers, and it is because of this I have recommended so take additional classes from a skilled Occulmens. _

_She has all the necessary drive and skills for your training programme, with only one draw-back. Whilst she is a bright and out-going young girl, Isabelle prefers to be partnered with her boyfriend, Xander Fellwier in nearly exercises. It is with him that she works most effectively, but sometimes to the exclusion of others. I feel this needs to be brought to your attention if she is to be an Auror candidate._

Gwen paused and looked across to the photograph of Izzie attached the file. A slender, pale face and cool keen eyes surveyed her from behind a sweeping fringe of jet black hair, short at the sides and back. Izzie was certainly striking, the contrast between her hair and skin was evident even in old faded photo. She was promising and driven, just what Gwen needed, but a Slytherin with a reference from the head of Gryffindor? Odd, but Gwen felt she could overlook it.

As she moved Izzie's file into the ranks of the accepted, her eyes fell on the file beneath it. Her gaze was locked by the disturbing mix of Xander Fellwier's gaze. A normal left eye and the other magical and garish, even in the photo spinning dizzily in its socket. On the small photo you could just make out a cold, white scar running up his right cheek and through where his eye used to be. Not hard to guess the reason. His gaze was hard, unrelenting, unforgiving.

Also 21, again with a similar mix of Auror NEWTs, only with slightly lower grades than Isabelle. As a Gryffindor, his reference from McGonagall made more sense than that of Izzie's two.

_Xander is a promising student and a hardworker, who has travelled far and overcome much to gain what he has. Extra classes and out of hours tuition have been given in nearly every occasion. These were not out of need, but at the student's request. His academic performance alone was be enough to guarantee entry in my view. However, his tenacity is considerable, and he was honed many skilled, particularly duelling, with obsessive determination._

_I would question his temperament to be an Auror. He lacks a capacity to work well with others, except for one Miss Keystone. Frequently, he prefers to rely on individual thinking rather than set instructions. Not good in the classroom, but how you treat this creative thinking is up to you. _

Gwen turned over the leaf and surveyed the reports from instructors. Remarks like "independent" and "free-spirited" were common. One even called him a "loose cannon." However all agreed his skills were impressive and recommended him seriously for selection. It was a shame that their comments would come to nothing, there were five candidates, four spaces.

Making to rise, Gwen moved towards the door. Upon reaching for her cloak, she paused and looked back around at her desk. Five candidates? They still had a year in the field yet before an annual review. What if…

Moving back across the room she again surveyed Fellwier's picture. He continued to scowl out it at her, magical eyes still revolving at a fantastic rate. Why not? Lets leave a mark, she thought, as she reached over and placed Xander Fellwier's file onto the accepted pile.

Miles away from the Ministry of Magic and London, the stars rolled out on a dawn, chilly autumnal night on a dark, winding country lane. Bordered not wild and scruffy hedges, one might not have noticed a man blundering along. Darkness was this man's friend, no one could see his scruffy clothes, or matted hair, or give him a wide berth in the street because of the way he looked. Darkness hid all of that.

Despite this, he had no desire to sleep outside in it. Someway ahead he knew there was a old barn. He'd passed it on the road hundreds of times, set a little way back, along a narrow, dirty pathway. Never used, never occupied, so no one would mind it if he used it this once.

Stumbling up the path he reached the door. It reared up before him to brilliant sky above, a dull shadow. Reaching out his hand to open it, he suddenly stopped and wheeled around. What was the noise? A low sigh or hissing? Like a voice…no no…there was no one there. It was only the wind in the dead leaves yeah. And yet, as he wrenched the door open and flung it shut behind him, he had the oddest feeling that his first hunch hadn't been wrong.

As the door shut with a clunk, a few moments passed in the quiet country air, before it was split by a sudden, terrifying scream. Bats and swallows leapt from the eaves of the barn in fright and the ghostly shade of owl took flight in shock, swooping away screeching into the night. Then the shout was silenced as soon as it had began, and silence reigned again.

All except for the owl, which circled off high into the night sky. As its cries grew fainter, the only sound that remained was the tailing off a long, sigh like hiss, then all was silent again, and silent it remained as the East sky grew steadily greyer and lighter with the approach of dawn.

Back in London, the grey dawn brought with it unexpected news for Xander Fellwier, in the form of a tap on the window, which roused him from a troubled sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Remainder One

The street lamp cast on eerie orange aura through the late autumn condensation through on Xander's bedroom window

The street lamp cast on eerie orange aura through the late autumn condensation through on Xander's bedroom window. Thin curtains did nothing to hold back the glow, illuminating the small room in weird half-light. Clothes lay strewn haphazardly across the floor and most surfaces, and save for the faded flower pattern wallpaper they was no decoration. However, despite its bareness, the room bore the unmistakable signs of occupancy, not the least because there were two fingers lying on the narrow bed in one corner.

The covers were ruffled and twisted around their two figures. One was a young woman, wearing a longish t-shirt, her jet black hair was short at the back and sides, whilst a long fringe swept over her pale face. She lay peacefully asleep, her breath twitching her fringe occasionally, with her head laid on the chest of her companion. He, on the other hand, was not asleep, but lay on his back staring unblinkingly up at the chipped cream ceiling. The light of the street lamp caught an unsettling reflection his eyes, a blueish left eye, whilst the magical right was royal blue and sent a dizzy pattern dancing across the ceiling as it moved frantically around in its socket.

A tap at the window had roused Xander Fellwier from sleep, although in truth he'd been lingering on the edges of dreams all night. Sleep unsettled him, it didn't bring dreams, just half-formed thoughts of events or desired best forgotten. And there is was again, the tap at the window, just behind his head. Gingerly behind him with his free arm, he undid the catch on the window without looking round and pushed it up.

The curtains suddenly billowed out as something rocketed through them and skidded to a halt, twittering on the cupboard across the room. This time Xander did raise his head a little, but before he could look across, the woman stirred. Stopping stock still Xander waited, but she simply laid her head back down and continued sleeping. Without looking across the room, he raised one finger to indicate the feathery intruder to be quiet, for it was still twittering slightly and then beckoned to it softly.

Rolling his magical eye around he saw a tiny owl hop onto the window sill next to his head and drop a letter next to him. Xander reached slowly around and picked it up. However before he could look at it, the owl hopped onto his forehead and peered down at him, head on one side.

"How am I supposed to read it, with you there?" Xander mouthed to Pigwidgeon.

Pig simply hooted happily in response, but Xander raised his finger again.

"Don't make me use a Silencing Charm," he hissed, "Don't think Ron would mind you being quieter."

Pig chirruped, and Xander rolled his good eye, before slowly and carefully opening the letter and holding it up in front up of him.

_Izzie, Xander,_

_GG says you're cleared for the final placements. Well done. Now get up and into the office bloody sharpish!_

_Ron_

As Xander read, his magical eye stayed fixed on the same point and then suddenly zipped to catch up with his normal one. Putting the letter down Xander sighed, and looked back up at Pig on his forehead.

"Ok," he whispered, "We're on our way."

Pig hooted and hopped up and down, excitedly.

"No I can't write a reply," Xander growled, "Just buzz off before you wake her."

With a final hoot, Pig zoomed back out of the window. Xander instead just lay back, watching the upside down, lightening sky through the gently moving curtains. So he'd made it to final placement, which meant that there would five candidates competing for five spaces. Somehow though he doubted he'd be one of them at the end, there'd been better people. More qualified and more obedient.

Looking back down at Izzie, he smiled. She'd earned it though, but how best to tell her? An idea did come to mind. With a grin, Xander closed his eyes and focused on the little kitchenette in their one bed room flat and with a pop, Disapparated.

He was half-way through buttering his second slice of toast, when the door swung open and Izzie stood in the doorway. Meekly he looked up at her, whilst his magical eye kept reading the copy of the Prophet in front of him. He always enjoyed seeing her at this time of the morning, not made up, no make-up and he got to see her legs. Win-win. He smiled pleasantly at her, as she held up the letter.

"Stop staring," she said, her expression set, "Did you Disapparate out of bed again?"

Xander shrugged, "I didn't want to wake you."

Sweeping her long fringe out of her eyes, Izzie glowered at him, "Liar, how is your body suddenly moving to the kitchen not going to wake me up."

Again he shrugged, and pretended to go back to reading the Prophet. Even though there was nothing newsworthy on the front, no sign of Avery. He knew she wanted him to comment on the letter, but all he had to do was wait and…

"We're in!" she shrieked as she rushed across the room and knocked Xander clean out of his chair in an embrace.

What a way to start a day, Xander thought, choking on his mouthful of toast.

The forum room of the Auror Office as a wide space with rows of dark, wooden benches spreading back from a large desk at the front. In many ways it was a classroom, introduction seminars for new trainees and briefing for old hands were all held here. On that very early morning though, it was serving its most important purpose. It was a holding an emergency meeting.

Members of the department were spread sporadically across the benches, like a class in too big a room, not comfortable to sit too close together. They were in suit like robes, some in muggle suits, clearly work uniforms, vaguely presentable, but also functional. All looked bleary eyed, some with cups of coffee and breakfast snacks in front of them. Some held files or twiddled wands. Generally, the mood was one of tired anticipation. They didn't want to be there, but they wanted to know why they didn't want to be there.

However, there were two exceptions. To the front and to one side sat a trio of anxious looking people, two wizards and a witch. They sat bolt upright, with quills in hand and parchment ready. Behind them, sat two wizards, who looked the most comfortable in the whole room. One sat with his hands folded on the desk in front of him, whilst the other was casually going through his bag.

Harry Potter looked sideways at Ron and craned his head slightly to see what he friend as doing. Ron Weasley looked around, and met his friend's gaze.

"What?" he said, as Harry raised his eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked him, still vaguely interested in what Ron was holding.

"Oh erm…" here Ron flushed a little, "It's my sandwiches."

"What about them?"

"They're corned beef," Ron sounded more than just a little disgusted.

"So?" Harry couldn't quite see the problem, "Just don't eat them, get something from the cafeteria."

"I can't" Ron muttered, "Hermione made them for me."

"Ron," Harry sighed, " She's not going to find out, I mean…I won't tell her…and you're clearly not…"

"Its not that simple," Ron hissed, looking around before turning back to Harry and lowering his voice to almost a whisper, "She starts _here, today_. Department of Magical Creatures. So she'll be eating lunch with me and she'll…"

"Ah Ron" smirked Harry, "How long has it been? You've still not told her about you and corned beef. Still people can change."

Ron's eyes brightened, "Yeah…maybe she could change the filling…"

"No," Harry corrected him, "Maybe you could learn to like it."

Ron flushed a little redder, "Look just because Ginny doesn't…"

Harry laughed, "Damn straight she doesn't. I make her sandwiches. Top Quidditch player's privilege."

Ron scowled and returned the packet to his bag, just as Xander and Izzie entered the room. For a moment the noise stopped and all stared at them. In turn they stared back, before making their way down to the front. Izzie dropped into a seat next to the other new recruits, but finding no spare seat next to her Xander dropped in the row behind her, next to Harry. He nodded to both Harry and Ron, who smiled and nodded in return.

"Welcome," Harry leaned into Xander, "and congrats."

Xander turned his head to look at him, but he wasn't smiling.

"Thanks," he said, "but it's a little premature."

Harry stared at him for a second, and Ron blinked.

"Hang on," Ron said, "You made it, you've been accepted."

But Harry could already see the problem, he glanced at the front row and then back to Xander.

"Six candidates," he said, "but only five spaces."

"What?" Ron looked carefully at the front row, "does that mean more funding?"

"No Mr Weasley," Gwen's voice cut in and she strode into the room and up to the large desk at the front, holding a large file, "It means that one of them will be let go before the placements are awarded."

All the trainees, including Izzie whipped around at this, eyes wide. Whilst the older Aurors sat up and began mumbling.

"Has the Minister cleared this?" one called from the back.

"Yes Dawlish," Gwen responded, "Now no more questions. We've got a big one here, and we'll need that extra hand to solve it."


	4. Chapter 4: The Thlot Plickens

"This," Ron proclaimed, "is completely pointless

"This," Ron proclaimed, "is completely pointless."

Wringing his hands and stamping feet did little to check out the chill of that cold wet November morning. Not only had he suffered a minimalist breakfast, but he also had no choice but to have Hermione's sandwiches for lunch. It was some comfort at least that those around him seemed just as put-out. What a strange blot they must form on the landscape? Underneath the lofty, but bleak sky stretched the even bleaker East Anglia landscape. Flat fields, in a flat land and set in flat colour. Having watched a muggle film called 'the Wizard of Oz' the other day with Hermione, Ron was so forcefully reminded of Kansas that he marvelled at why Dorothy should want to return.

There's no place like anyway where else but here, he thought, turning the collar of his coat up against the sweeping breeze.

His companions gave no sign they had heard him, so intent were they upon the item before them, or because they wished to give those around them the impression of diligence. Indeed, the body before them presented a task to occupy the keenest mind.

If there had been anyone in that bleak landscape, at such an unsightly hour of the morning, when most decent folk were still eating their toast, then a small group of people clustered in the middle of a field would have been unusual enough. However, if the hypothetical observer had seen their clothing, they may have thought it even stranger. Two of the group wore long robes, and many more were wrapped in cloaks, over muggle clothing. Only three wore recognisable outfits, but one of these sported a wide brimmed black homburg, pulled down low to shade the left side of his face. The object of their curiosity was screened from view by their forms, but here the observer would have gone on their way, deciding that the object of their curiosity was probably not worth thinking about. After all, it would have to be something infinitely weirder to have brought such a crowd in the first place.

Indeed, the scene was a puzzling one for the assembled Aurors. Gwen's brief had been comprehensive, but now they were here, they could scarcely believe it. Each found something maddeningly mysterious in the set of circumstances. Michael Johnston, with his keen Ravenclaw intellect, was puzzling out a list of enchantments that could explain the lack of trail and clear ground around the body? Next to him, the short, anguish face of James Phelbs leafed through the Apparition logs for the department of Magical Transport, trying frantically to find any trace of recorded apparition to this point last night. The heads of Hannah Ashcroft and Zeke Blaise were together, whispering as they talked over every DADA lesson they'd taken trying to recall any spell, besides the obvious, that could obliterate a life, but leave the body intact with a look of utter terror on the victim's face. Finally, slightly to the side stood Izzie and Xan, the latter simply staring intently at the corpse, the other glancing from the body's face to that of her partner.

Further behind them, on the outer edge of the circle, stood Harry and Ron watching the trainees with looks of pleasant reminiscence. Finally, Harry called a halt and the assembled crowd turned or scribbled down final notes or compared last tips in whispers, before assessment.

"Well?" said Harry, with a smile that soon faded from his face as the barrage of voices and information hit him, so holding up his hand he pointed to Hannah first.

"Its obviously the Killing Curse," she launched straight in, "but I don't think this is a muggle baiting. The victim bears not injuries or marks to suggest torture and death seems to have been straightforward."

Michael and James went for a combined assault, arguing that there couldn't have been a wizard or witch involved, there were to tracks or apparition record. In a superb coup, Michael then left James in the dust as he sped off on his own theory of the murder taking place elsewhere and the body being dropped here from a height, like a broomstick. Zeke delivered a superb return by pointing out that the body was laid out flat on the ground with no indentation, flayed or broken limbs to suggest a fall from a great height.

To and fro the argument raged, however all the while another quiet debate was taking place, Izzie conversing hurriedly in whispers with Xander Fellwier, who had so far said nothing. Harry glanced over at them, now ignoring the four other bickering trainees, leaving poor Ron to referee their little point scoring match. Slipping quietly over, Harry leaned into Izzie.

"What do you think?" he murmured to her.

Izzie half-turned to him, but still kept her body orientated towards the corpse.

"His clothing, its ragged, poor, he's some sort of tramp or vagrant. No home, no family, no one to care if he died," she whispered, "Muggle baitings like to maximize suffering and impact, make a statement, this man died in a very understated way, he just died simply and quickly."

"Do you agree?" Harry turned to Xander, who merely nodded, without making eye contact. To Harry he seemed lost in dark and deep thoughts.

Suddenly, he turned and started to walk away from the body, out across the field. Harry turned and called after him. Suddenly, every pair of eyes was fixed on Xander's back, and he stopped, almost in response to it.

"Where are you going Fellwier?" Ron called, "The crime's being committed here, not back at that café we passed."

The rest of the trainees smirked, but they had stiffened like hounds onto a scent. No one was going to play them out of this game. Only Izzie and Harry remained emotionless, watching the young man keenly. Slowly, Xander turned back to them.

"I know where the crime was committed," he said in a low voice, "but rest assured, I'll be in that café long before the rest of you."

"Really?" Johnson piped up, surveying his colleague with blatant scorn, "Well your moody atmospheric and brooding loner act may impress some," his eyes flitted to Izzie, "but grow up Fellwier, and we're a _team_ here."

"If we are a team that why don't some of you come along while I go and collect statements from the locals?" Xander replied, turning again and walking off.

Without a moment's hesitation, all the trainee's made to follow and would have done so, had Ron not held them back.

"Hold it brain bunch," he hollered, "Four of you stay here to review the scene, Keystone you go with him."

"No," said Harry, "Johnston and I will go. We'll be back soon."

Without another word he beckoned to the tall, proud figure of Johnston and set off after Xander across the fields, cloaks and coats billowing in the wind behind them. As the frenzied analysis of the body continued, the figure of Izzie stood still watching Xan's retreating back.

"Idiot," she muttered, "When will he learn to share?"

There was no clear path way, so Harry, Xander and Michael struck as straight a course they could to the gate set in the high hedge on the far side. Through this they crossed onto a narrow winding lane, a meandering corridor between claustrophobically towering hedges, which spread unkempt dead branches dark against a darker sky. Pausing the grey verge, Harry cast his up and down, but could not see far in either direction as there were steep bends at either end of road, which whipped around out of sight. All was quiet, except the wind rattling the cracked and dead leaves, hanging stiff and lifeless on the hedgerows.

Whilst Harry moved away down to check around the right hand bend, Michael followed Xander to the left. The young man was standing stock still, staring at the hedge obscuring his view, as though he could see right through it. It took Michael a little while to remember, that he _could _actually see through it. However, after several minutes Xander made no sign of moving and Harry had no returned, and he began to lose patience.

"What do you see?" he chided Xander, leaning close into his shoulder, as if this would afford him the same x-ray like abilities.

"Would you mind not standing so close?" Xander said as he turned to him, setting his own face right into Michael's.

Michael took the step back, but out of British conversation convention to be at an appropriate distance when talking to someone, particularly someone with such an unnerving gaze.

"You don't think I should be here?" Xander suddenly said.

Michael turned to look at him quizzically for a second, then nodded.

"Then why try to include me?"

"As long as you are here, you might as well make a viable contribution, you were the only person at Hogwarts who took more extra tuition than me. You should be making that knowledge count," Michael replied, "After all; we're all on the same side."

"Right," Harry cut in as he stepped up next to Michael, "Exactly, so what did you see Xander?"

"A building, a house or something, along the lane ahead," Xander said, as his magical eye roved into the back of his head to confirm, "And…there is someone entering it…a man…oh and surprisingly, he's wearing a cloak."

"A black one?" Harry asked, raising one eyebrow suspecting sarcasm.

"Oh yeah," Xander chuckled, "the full cliché. Wonder if he's got a scythe?"

The scowl of disapproval from Harry was enough to silence Xander, and draw his attention back to the conversation. Turning around with a nod, Xander took a step forward, only to feel a hand on his shoulder.

"Go back and tell the others," said Harry firmly, "Michael and I will go ahead."

Xander again nodded, but as Harry released his shoulder and whirled around and vanished on the spot with a small pop. Michael leapt back in surprise and Harry swore.

"Why's he Disapparated?" Michael queried, staring dumbfounded at the place where Xander had vanished, "The crime scene's only a short walk away."

"Where else has he gone?" growled Harry, "Come on! If we hurry we might catch the bloody idiot!"


	5. Chapter 5: An Axe to Grind

Feet and hearts pounding, the two figures tore down the narrow passage between high, dark hedges

Feet and hearts pounding, the two figures tore down the narrow passage between high, dark hedges. Every breath Michael took tore at his chest and his eyes were streaming from the effort. The straight line distance to the building Xander had spotted might have been comparatively short, but the road wound and twisted like a coiling serpent. He and Harry were barred on either side by high, thick hedgerows, and could see nothing on either side. Even the light seemed to failing.

As they ran, darkness seemed to overtake them and the air grew heavy with the approach of thunder. A seamless, sweeping curtain of rain swept over them drawn from the East coast. Soaking and gasping, they still ran on, but could not find any sign of gate or opening to let them through. Finally Harry had had enough.

Whipping out his wand and shouting 'Reducto!' over a sudden peel of thunder, a great flash flared upon and the hedge to left was with a gaping hole, as if it had been struck by lightning. Ducking sideways and motioning for Michael to follow him, Harry leapt through the gap.

Before them, little more than a hundred metres away stood a firm, but ramshackle structure. Throwing a sinister silhouette upon the dismal flats, even from a distance they could see its shattered windows and creaking, pot marked roof. A lonesome air of neglect hung about the place. No one came here and troubled about this building, or had done so for a very long time.

Racing across the flats, their foot soon became treacherous in the downpour. Michael's feet slid right out from under him, and he fell in spray of grim. Harry returned and helped the staggering trainee to his feet. Michael was about to ask the obvious question of "Are you sure he came this way?" when he saw something. A flash of lightning had illuminated a spine tingling spectacle of a door sliding open and a dark figure framed in it, watching them. Shaking his head, he stared again, but saw no one. However, a great open door now yawned on the side of the building ahead.

"What?" Harry hollered to him.

"I…I thought I saw someone," Michael replied, still staring at the doorway ahead.

Harry didn't reply, but rather raised his wand and strode off towards the open door. Hesitantly, Michael drew his own wand and followed. At the dark doorway, the two wizards paused and peered inside, however their eyes could not pierce the gloom, and lighting the tips of their wands didn't cast the slightest beam through it.

"Peruvian darkness powder," Michael muttered, as he and Harry plunged through it, wands raised.

Emerging on the other side, they found themselves in a high beamed room, which had once belonged to a barn. Here the wind whistled through the eaves and broken windows and sent discarded pieces of hay whirling around them. Here, their wand beams cast long flickering shadows on what seem to be a row of cages on the far side of the room. From these glittering eyes and a series of croaks could be heard. Michael moved towards these, whilst Harry swept his wand around the room and the light feel on a figure slumped in the corner.

Xander was lying back against the wall motionless, his eyes half-open. Kneeling down next to him, Harry felt for a pulse and sighed with relief as his felt a flutter in Fellwier's wrists. He'd only been Stunned…but by who?

"Harry…" Michael's voice came from across the room, "You've got to see this. These cages, they've got toads in them."

"What?! Michael who cares?!" Harry snapped, "Come over here and help me move Xander, we've got to get back to the others."

But _look_," Michael pressed, "There are toads sitting on eggs, toads on eggs. Like they're incubating them…or something."

"Incubating?" Harry mused, but as he bent down to lift Xander, a tingling chill ran down the length of his body and a passage Hermione had once given him surfaced in his mind, "A chicken's egg hatched beneath a toad…no…Michael, come on we've got to…"

The chill rose to a freezing moment of recognition as he spotted on the axe leant against the wall next to Xander. It had a long, black handle so it stood almost the height of a man, sweeping up into a long cruel blade. Another memory swam back into Harry's mind. That axe descending, descending at the time he'd thought to end Buckbeak's life, until he and Hermione had saved him. It was an executioner's axe.

"Michael, really come…"

"_Avada Kedavra_!" an unknown voice bellowed.

A terrifyingly familiar burst of green light filled Harry's eyes and he raised his hands to shield them, but even as he did he heard Michael's body thud to the floor. Movement came in the hayloft above and instantly Harry was on his feet with a shout of rage, firing Stunning spells up at the unknown assailant. Each spell failed to find its mark in the dim loft, but the final shot illuminated the hem of a dark cloak sweeping to one side and the shadow of a wand being raised.

"_Crucio_!"

Harry bent all of his will into a Shield Charm, but the force of the curse still drove him to his knees. With the higher ground and the cover, even his duelling skills were no match here.

"Stop or I kill the other," the voice growled from above, "and you've got enough blood on your hands already Potter."

Harry stood for a moment, seething, surrender was a not an option. However, as he raised his wand again, his glance feel on Michael's corpse. The glassy eyes, half opened mouth and pale, lifeless face drawn into a mask of fear and confusion were all too familiar. Morality wasn't weakness, and Xander didn't deserve to die as well. Dropping his wand, Harry placed his hands on his head.

"Good," the voice gloated, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Harry's snapped to his sides, his legs wedged together and he keeled over backwards. Stars burst before his eyes, as his head smashed into the ground. The dark rafters span above Harry as, he heard heavy boated feet drop from the loft and move towards him, slowly and deliberately, savouring the moment triumph. A dark cloaked figure leaned over Harry and looked down at him, before leaning in close, foul breath panting with barely controlled joy. Slowly the figure pulled back its hood to look into Harry's eyes.

"Hello Potter," Macnair sneered, and with that he struck Harry across the face, and all went dark.


	6. Chapter 6: Consequences

Coming to, Harry choked and coughed the damp earth out of his mouth. Free of the Body Bind Curse, he had been lying face down on the ground. The fleeting relief to be alive was replaced by the icy dread of wondering why he was. Deatheaters were sadists, but Macnair had a flair for swift, brutal executions. He did not like to toy with his prey like his former Master. Yet here Harry was, and Xander too...

The limp form of the young trainee lay just beside Harry. For a moment he feared that another colleague had paid the price, but there was a pulse. Strong and certain, Xander too, was still only Stunned. Cold fear spread through Harry as he felt the heart beat of his friend. Macnair had something in mind for them.

Glancing up, the only light came through a long, thin slit, faint and some fifteen feet above them. A trapdoor? Sliding his hands around, Harry felt the dank earth and heavy smell of the wet, but suddenly his fingertips came upon a dry, crackly object. Pinching it in his fingers and holding it up to the light, Harry squinted. It felt like dry tissue paper and rustled like it, but the texture and translucency were unmistakable, snake skin.

Snake skin this large, and colour, he'd only seen once before, in the tunnels deep beneath Hogwarts leading to the Chamber of Secrets. It was a sight Harry had hoped never to see again. As this memory floated to the surface of his mind, the sound of heavy, slick coils sliding over the ground towards him reached his ears. Throwing himself onto top of Xander, Harry buried his own face deep into the ground. His left hand frantically scrabbled over Xander's face to try and locate the magical eye. The slithering drew nearer, proceeded by a low hissing.

Still Harry groped blindly, where was that eye? At last, he found it! Yanking with all his might, it came loose with a pop and groan from the owner. Pitching it away into the dark, Harry heard what he needed. The impact and angry hiss from the basilisk. Rolling to his feet, Harry reached his wand, but it wasn't in his pocket...but where...

Further thought wasn't allowed as something broad and muscular whipped him off his feet and into the far wall of the pit. Winded and gasping for breath, Harry tried to gasp a spell, any spell that would show him where his wand was, but the words wouldn't come. He could feel the gaze of those cool yellow eyes upon him, and any minute the fangs would pierce his body. It wasn't death he feared, but the frustration at knowing that Xander and Michael had paid the price too. Also Macnair, Macnair...how was he here? Why was he here? To die without knowing...

Without warning a voice bellowed, _"Incarcerou_s!" and the basilisk hissed, angrily as Harry heard it shift its weight around sharply. Chancing a glance, Harry glimpsed the coils of the beast in the sliver of light from above. Its length could not be guessed in the gloom, but its head was turned towards the huddle figure of Xander. Thick ropes were bound into his hands and around the beast's tail, as he flung all of his weight into towing it away from Harry.

"Hurry!" he hollered, pitching the wand he had used wildly into the gloom, "I've only got an OWL in Care of Magical Creatures, but I'm sure this won't work for long."

Harry tried to rise, but a searing flared across his chest. Grunting, he fell back against the wall clutching his side. A couple of broken ribs at least...but that couldn't stop him.

"Harry!" Xander yelled, scuttling backwards along the wall of the pit.

Levelling the wand at the beast, Harry gasped, "_Tarantallegra_!" Quivering, the basilisk's coils contorted uncontrollably, writhing to some unheard form of music. The snake hissed and snapped wildly, as its form thrashed about the pit. One coil crushed Xander against the wall and another slapped Harry across the face leaving him blinking blood. With a wild thrust of the tail the trap door was ripped off its hinges and spiralled out of sight into the room beyond. The faint light pouring in seemed as bright as midday.

"Xander!" Harry bellowed, "Apparate out!"

Focusing all of his energy on the barn above, Harry span on the spot as another spasm clouted him. For a moment he thought he'd blacked out again, but then he was rolling onto the decaying hay of the loft above. A thump and groan told that Xander had joined him.

"Why..." groaned the trainee Auror, "Didn't you kill it..." In spite of the stabbing pain in his chest, Harry rolled up to face Xander and take a good long look at him.

"You are a complete prat," he growled, "Because of Macnair, this was a trap. And you led us right to it!"

Hand over his left eye, Xander glared back.

"I sorry about Michael, but I didn't ask you to follow me..."

If Harry had possessed the strength, he would have hexed him into the middle of next week. Instead, he settled for dragging himself over to Xander until his face was inches from his own.

"Listen to me. You may not think you need to play by the rules, be part of the team. But we stand and fall as a unit. One weak link is all it takes, if I even think for a minute that you are that weak link. You will be out of here..."

The rest of the speech was lost in the sound of hurrying footsteps below, the gasps at the sight of Michael's body and the frantic calling of their names. Their friends had arrived.

There was no chat or gossip in the Auror Office that evening. Each sat at their desk, hunched over paperwork or brooding darkly on to the wall opposite, or simply staring into space, not even bothering to pretend they were busy. Every mind was somewhere between wondering what the events of the barn meant and the heart wrenching wails of grief heard from GG's office as she broke the news of Michael's murder to his family.

Only Harry and Xander were not present. A quick trip to St. Mungo's had established that the worst either had was a couple of broken ribs. Nonetheless, the deafening silence between the two as they entered the Office to report to GG had broken the mood of brooding gloom. Izzie, Ron and the others had watched uncomfortably from the corner, but said nothing. What needed to be said, was going to be said to GG.

"Well?" she inquiried, leaning back in her chair, hands over her eyes.

Xander thought she looked tired and worn, as though the grief of Michael's death was as much her's as his mother's.

"There was nothing left," Harry replied, eyes fixed on the far wall, not looking at Xander or his superior, "Macnair took everything, only left one specimen, which has been...the Department for Magical Creatures has taken care of..."

"And?" GG pressed, still not looking up.

"Michael's body's been laid out in St. Mungo's morgue, for his family to see. The Prophet's asking for an interview to confirm what happened, officially, his death is still down to a training accident."

GG scoffed, "Merlin's beard, if we can keep this quiet much longer I'll be surprised. Potter, the Minister wants you to brief him as soon as possible. He'll be handling this himself. And Xander, until this is over, you are confined to a desk."

Twitching noticeably, Xander sat up and stared straight at her. "On my first day?" he muttered. "Yes, just for the next 48 hours, until I decide whether or not you'll be facing an inquiry and expulsion, now get out."

Sliding his chair back, Xander swept from the room and slammed the door behind him. Harry switched his gaze to his boss and glowered.

"48 hours?" he hissed, "Thats a joke, he's a liability. Kick him off now."

"That liability saved your life Potter," GG retorted, still not meeting Harry's eye, "We need him."

"You know why he's here GG," Harry said darkly, "He wants revenge. He thinks being an Auror will allow him to take that revenge."

"He maybe tenacious Potter," GG groaned, running her hands through her fast greying hair, "But if I'm right, 48 hours will give him just enough time to stew before we let him back out into the field again. Now head down to the Creature department, talk to your friend Miss Granger, see if you can't convince them that a consignment of missing basilisk eggs and an AWOL lunatic are worthy of their attention."

Pausing for a moment, Harry nodded and left. It wasn't up for discussion, at any rate he had 48 hours to sort this out before he need worry about Xander Fellwier.


	7. Chapter 7: Truth and Lies

Harry slammed the grill of the golden cage lift shut with a slam that echoed through the deserted corridors of the Ministry. Pausing to a moment he lent back against the wall, breathing in the deep and unnerving silence. Memories of those dark and empty corridors were full of the feelings of grief and rage as he had chased Bellatrix Lestrange from the Department of Mysteries, revenge for Sirius coursing through his mind. He'd come a long way since then, but not so far that death did not affect him. Dumbledore had once said his greatest strength was his ability to feel, but it was a painful asset.

Sighing and passing his hand across his brow, Harry pushed the button and the cage whirled into life.

A lone lamp flickered in the Department of Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures, the sure sign of a workaholic. But Hermione Granger had big plans, ideas that would help remake the wizarding world and here was the place to put them into action. However, as a lowly intern you couldn't do much, and her innate drive to succeed would not allow her to do anything less than her best. As Ron would repeatedly remind her, her best put most people to shame. Anyway, there was no point being at home, her best friend was here and so was the man she loved. Aurors kept unsociable hours, especially tonight.

The file has just crossed her desk from GG, when she heard the sure, quickened stride, Hermione knew well as Harry coming up behind her. She pretended not to notice waiting for the polite impatience of his cough.

"Yes?" she inquired when it came, not looking round lest he see her smirk.

"I need you help Hermione," Harry replied in that brisk, busy like manner he saved for those situations of professional conduct.

"Harry Potter, you've been asking for my help for the past decade, don't you think its time you researched your own essays?" she teased, but raised her hand to prevent the snappy reply, "I've seen it...basilisk eggs...and I've seen the creature they brought in. The eyes..."

Her shudder was calmed by the warmth of Harry's hand on her shoulder. She turned her eyes round from her work to gaze up at him. Even after all these years, his presence still calmed and assured her, her ever-present guardian.

"Look," he said, "you don't have to do this. No matter what GG says, your superiors can handle this. Call someone in..."

"Harry..." Hermione interrupted, the exasperation in her voice all too evident, "I'm fine. You don't need to save me this time."

"Meaning?" Harry scowled.

"I presume you haven't told Ginny that you got Xander suspended from the field after one day and there is a reason that you here at this hour rather than at Grimmauld Place with her?" Hermione's haughty reply came.

It was Harry's turn to scowl now. Fixing his gaze on the wall behind Hermione's head, his eyes were stony and his brow furrowed. Hermione had touched a nerve.

"What Ginny thinks about what I've done is...it would find who bred these Basilisks...think you can help?"

"Of course," Hermione said, her pained gaze watching Harry's form slope out of the door, without looking at her.

Some miles away from the Ministry, on top of one the smooth towers of steel and glass, the lights of the swarming city below mirrored eerily on its sides, a lone figure could be spied. A shadow against the gloom of the cloudy winter night, the sky a sickly green reflecting the luminescent glow of London. Cloak billowing behind him in the breeze, rain splashing his face, Xander sat along on the very edge of the building, surveying the skyline beyond. The distant noise of traffic was lost in the roar of the gale and the rain pummelling the tarred grit of the roof, but this could not mask the loud crack of Apparation. His magical eye swivelling round to see who had arrived, Xander made no other sign to acknowledge the presence of Izzie.

For a few minutes she just stood behind him, and he kept his back to her. A silent game, each waiting for the other to speak first.

"Look at me," she breathed, her chest heaving with barely controlled emotion.

Xander kept his back to her and said nothing.

"Look at me Xan," the use of his name brought him back with a sigh, but he still did not turn around.

"The statue stirs," Izzie said, anger seeping into her voice like poison, growing with each word, "You...you...bastard. Don't do this to me, don't you dare sit there after what happened today. Not after what happened to Michael. You can't be distant, _look at me!"_

"I am," Xander replied, "Or have you forgotten how I got this eye?"

Izzie laughed derisively, "Oh...how do you do it? Always bring it back to that? Being the brooding loner doesn't impressive anyone Xan, this isn't school and you need to grow up. Or are you too much of coward?"

The last word seemed to hang in the air between them leaving silence except for the wind and rain whipping past them both. Somewhere in the distant a police siren back to wail, but neither moved. Izzie tensed, waiting for the response and Xander staring unmoving out over the city sky. Finally Xander got up and turned around.

"I'll be whatever I need to be until I find him," he spoke calmly and levelly, "I came close today, Macnair knows Aver. If I find Macnair, I find Avery and I find my revenge. But I am who I am for you too."

Izzie moved up him, pressing her body close against his, wrapping herself in the folds of his cloak, and laid her head on his chest.

"You're losing yourself," she whispered tears rolling down her face, mingling with the rain on her cheeks, "The more you want to avenge your parents the more Avery takes away from you."

Holding her close, Xander buried his face in her hair. Breathing in her warm fragrance held back the revolving thoughts of revenge in his mind. It reminded him that there were other things to being human. Love, passion, caring. But there was also deception and subterfuge. It was these qualities that were needed to help him find Avery, and the next stage in doing that was to get hold Hermione Granger's report on the eggs.


	8. Chapter 8: Purpose

_"Man's ideal state is realised when he has fulfilled the purpose for which he is born. And what is it that reason demands of him? Something very easy - that he live in accordance with his own nature." _- Seneca -

Far away from the storm swept skies of London, hundreds of miles northwards, a tiny coastal village bore the brunt of the tempest. Great waves swept up the sides of the quay and the sheets of rain blinded anyone brave enough to peer out from the comfort of their cosy, safe homes. A bent figure wrapped in a great cloak emerged seamlessly from the tempest, as if swept out of the sea by the great waves. Head down and face hidden by a hood, he strode towards the small, stone cottage with bright lights burning inside and a wooden sign creaking furiously in the gale.

Drinkers in the Golden Anchor were simple, plain folk who normally did not take too kindly to strangers. The sight of one dark robed man sweeping into the pub would raise eyebrows, but two would bring on awkward questions. Something about this night and these men, unsettled even the most determined of them. The two men had ordered no drinks, but instead seated themselves at a small table in the corner. All attention was on them, but no one dared to look over. It was the perfect setting for Macnair and Avery to conduct secret business openly.

Macnair could not settle though. Years spent in hiding, sleeping in barns or damp woodlands meant that sitting in warm room, in full view of people seemed not only alien, but also tantamount to suicide. By contrast, Avery lent lazily against the wall, cocky and crass. He grinned as Macnair shifted and twitched at every laugh or chink of glasses.

"Settle down," he said loudly, "Anyone would think you were on the run."

Macnair wheeled around and glared at him, "Shut it!"

"With a reward offered..."

"I'm warning you..."

"Dead or alive."

The barman's eyes snapped over to the pair for just a second, where they met Avery's hungry gaze. Even though he looked away, the glass he was wiping began to tremble in his hands as Avery reached toward his wand, a predator closing in on his prey. Macnair suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Not here..."

"You can't tell me," Avery replied, a silky tone, eyes still on the barman, "That it isn't tempting to kill just one of them. To experience that look in their eyes when they know they are going to die..."

"The Aurors will come!" Macnair hissed, "You'll be on your own and on your way to Azkaban. Or dead if Fellwier gets to you."

"Do not mistake what we have as a partnership Macnair," Avery hissed, "You are merely contractually obligated to me, and that contract does not extend to making you expendable. To the Aurors or to me."

Slowly Macnair released the other's wrist, but the wand did not emerge. Avery instead leaned over the table, right into the face of him. Avery's cold, unflinching eyes held a gleam of madness as he spoke.

"It is pointless to run, pointless to hide," he whispered, "There is still work to be done. Nothing changed with the Dark Lord's death, my purpose is the same."

"Insane cretin," Macnair recoiled slightly in his chair, Avery's grimacing face inches from his own, "it changed everything. The Death Eaters are over, all we can hope to do is to survive."

"Cretin, am I?" Avery bared his yellowing teeth in the broadest grimace he muster, "Only a cretin dedicates the rest of his life to hiding. Being a Death Eater only gave me an excuse to be who I am, and I will not deny who I am, Macnair. Now, do you have it?"

Not taking his eyes off Avery, Macnair reached under the table and lifted a small crate out. As he set it down a sharp hiss escaped from inside it. Avery's grimace was now warping his features into one expression of sickening pleasure.

"My last," Macnair said slowly, "Thanks to Potter, the Ministry have the rest."

"Thanks to Potter...and Fellwier," Avery corrected, his stare still on the crate.

Macnair didn't reply, but pulled his hood tightly back over his lank, dripping, dark hair and made for the door. Avery did not even acknowledge his departure. He stock still, gawping greedily at the crate. Everyone muggle in the pub watched him out of the corner of their eyes or from over the tops of empty glasses they failed to notice were empty. No one moved. Except the landlord. He gradually inched his down the bar toward the phone on the wall. As he did, Avery's hand itched and twitched, like a spider, closer to his wand.

From outside the roar of the wind drowned the screams, but flashes of green light burst as cruel echoes of the lightning. The windows of the Golden Anchor went dark, but out of the pub strode a single figure. Cloak flying out behind them, he turned to face the building. All of a sudden streams of orange fire burst from his wand tip, whirling and coiling through the air. Bizarre and fearsome stars reeled and twirled in the torrents. The pub was engulfed as the tide of flame swept into the houses on either side. Avery was only sorry he could not hear the shrieks of the trapped mudbloods. Raising his wand once more time, the Dark Mark burst over the village, horrifically green against the rage of the Fiendfyre.

Avery knew his purpose and how best to achieve it.


	9. Chapter 9: Glancing Back

The massacre at the Golden Anchor formed only part of the evil news that swept across the pages of the Daily Prophet in the coming weeks. Despite the handling by Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, the murder of Michael Johnston by a renegade Death Eater seeped into the public conscience like venom. Was the Auror Office doing its job? Were ordinary wizards and witches safe? And why hadn't the assailant or assailants been caught? Fear of a Remnant uprising was in the mind of every muggle-born and half-blood, whilst the pure bloods merely shook their heads.

As the months rolled by, through Christmas and into a new year, there was nothing but silence. No sight or sound of trouble, but the sense of fear was all too tangible. No one travelled alone after dark, and every suspicious Muggle death was probed for even the slightest hint of Dark Magic. Yet for the trainees, life progressed as normal and in the end they came to accept the futile manhunt as just another part of their daily routine.

Harry found himself almost a little proud of their progress over the months since Michael's death. It had pulled Zeke, Izzie and Hannah closer together, formed a new bond between them based on their mutual grief and trust. Even Xander had fallen into line, but his distance still remained. His pairings with Izzie had been limited by GG and Harry, preferring instead to keep with more experienced Auror's such as Dawlish or Ron. This arrangement had been taken out of necessity. Zeke and Hannah had refused to train with him following the events at the barn. On some level, Harry could not blame them. Being an Auror meant being able to count on those around you, and Xander was not dependable. Nevertheless, their attitude had softened in the last few weeks (partly Harry suspected due to Izzie's consistent pleading), and Xander had returned to drilling with the rest.

Hermione's report the basilisk eggs was still being compiled. Interviews with known breeders, secret raids on known areas of supply and mapping of market sites were all aimed and providing some hint as to where Macnair had been. GG was putting all of the Office's energy into it, finding Macnair would take public scorn off the department, and most crucially off her.

It was amid this atmosphere of suffocating pressure that the Aurors filed into the briefing room, on a bleak January morning, yawning, clutching cups of coffee or crumpled copies of the Daily Prophet. "Are the Aurors up to?" scrolled incessantly across its front page.

Another 'scoop' for Rita Skeeter, Harry groaned, tossing the paper to one side with a disdainful sweep of his hand.

"Bloody cow," Ron muttered peering down at smirking, glittering face of Skeeter leering at them from the floor, before he brought his boot firmly down on her picture and twisted it with relish, "I've got half a mind to report her for being an illegal Animagus..."

"She's not attacking us," Harry murmured, his head resting on the table, watching GG stride into the room and set up on the podium at the front, "And she's only voicing public concerns..."

"Public concerns, Merlin's a..." Ron began, but his retort was cut short by the sight of bushy haired woman sweeping into the room and up to GG, a large file of parchment clutched tightly into her arms.

Silence descended upon the assembled Aurors, as Hermione Granger placed the wad of parchment onto the desk in front of GG, whose face spread into small satisfied smile.

"Its finished," Hermione said.

No one saw much of the senior staff at the Ministry of Magic over the next few days. GG, Harry Potter, Ron Weasely and Hermione Granger seemed to be permanent resides in the Minister's Office. What the contents of these discussions were, the trainees couldn't guess. Instead, they were all drafted into the early hours to sift through hundreds of suspected sightings of Macnair. More experienced members of the team like John Dawlish merely kept their heads down and worked, but for Izzie the work grated.

Xander had seemed distant, more so than usual over the last few days. There were islands off the Northern Coast of Scotland that were warmer than him at the moment and even a Dementor would've been more approachable. He had shut her out completely.

She couldn't stand to sit at her desk, mere metres from him and just what his obsession grow with every passing report he filed. Whereas others grew wearier as the night progressed, his fervour escalated, his magical eye twitching in its socket as it scanned ahead through the mounting sheets of parchment next to him. When Dawlish had left the room to get his regular caffeine fix, she'd thrown her quill down and ducked for the door. Now she was curled up in a dark alcove two floors away, her head on her knees, staring blankly at the smooth tiled wall opposite.

She hadn't done this since school...

_The sky outside the windows of Hogwarts was grey, mirroring the miserable April drizzle that lay about the castle and grounds. About the corridors odd groups of students lounged or traipsed around, depressed at being robbed of a spring day excuse to escape work. In the Charms corridor, a lone girl sat on the floor, chin on her knees, staring out into the bleak weather. Her black hair fell into two neat curtains framing her slender, pale face nicely beneath a straight fringe. About her was scattered books, a wand, quills and ink. The furious scribblings on the sheets of parchment were frantic attempts to understand Cheering Charms. _

_Even when a gaggle of voices and footsteps passed her then stopped, she still didn't look around. The only sign Isabelle Keystone gave that she'd noticed the gaggle of students staring at her was that her pallid cheeks flushed a little. When her homework was whisked out from the floor and held up for all to see, she simply looked at the floor. _

"_Need help Keystone?" one of the boys jeered, "I'll give you a hint, its meant to make you happy..."_

_Izzie still didn't look up, but turned redder still._

"_Just piss off," she whispered to her shoes, "Filthy Mudlbood." _

"_What?" the boy continued, dropping the sheets of parchment and drawing his wand, "You what!"_

_Izzie grabbed for her wand, but the boy shot a disarming charm and it clattered out of reach. She raised her cold defiant eyes to face him, as he levelled his wand at her. Before the hex came, a girl's voice strong and confident rang out._

"_Thom, you really are pathetic."_

_Thom and his group turned, and between them Izzie could see three new people had arrived. At the front, there was a girl, although small, she had long, flaming red hair and an air of confidence about her. Ginny Weasely. Beside her were two boys, one looking exceptionally nervous and twiddling a camera in his hands, Colin Creevy. The other was the tallest, with keen blue eyes, standing slightly behind Ginny, looking from Thom to each of the other members of his group. He looked as nervous at Colin did, and with good reason. Thom and his friends had now rounded on them, six on three. However, like Ginny, his hand was over his pocket ready to go for his wand. _

"_I can't underline just how much this isn't your business Ginny," Thom sneered._

_Ginny laughed, "Ha, after I caught you trying to lock Luna in that cupboard with a Boggart then this very much is my business."_

_Thom looked from her to the boys. _

"_Your friends don't seem to agree," he jeered and a couple of his gang drew wands._

"_I don't want to duel you, " the boy next to Ginny spoke, his tone was calm and level, a surprise given the obvious tension in his eyes Izzie noted, "but don't think I won't back my friend. And...just between you and me Thom, she's been practicing her Bat Bogey Hex...a lot."_

_Ginny smirked evilly at this. Thom looked from her backed to Izzie before stowing his wand and slouching off, friends in tow. As he left, he turned and gave Izzie's bag a good strong kick. It slide across the floor and an ink bottle spilled out and smashed over the discarded sheets of parchment. Fury etched across her face, Izzie dived for her wand and went to level it at Thom's back. The boy next to Ginny leapt forward and put himself between them, pushing her wand arm to one side. _

_Izzie turned and glared her, intense dark eyes meeting curious blue ones. _

"_Whoa!" Ginny shouted, "Leave it alone, he's not worth it."_

_Chest heaving with fury, Izzie said nothing, but sank down onto the floor. The three watched her in silence for a few moments._

"_You coming?" Ginny asked the boy who was still standing next to Izzie, looking down at the ruined sheets of parchment._

"_What?" the boy looked around and met his friend's quizzical gaze, "Oh right...nah go on, I'll see you at dinner."_

"_Ok..." Ginny said, looking from Izzie to him, before grabbing Colin by the arm and pulling him down the corridor with her towards the great staircase._

_The two left in the corridor stood in an awkward silence, before the boy bent down and scooped up Izzie's ruined homework. He looked at the title._

"_Cheering Charms?"_

_Izzie glared at him before snatching it back, "Yeah, whats it to you?"_

_To her surprise the boy blushed and his eyes wandered up to the ceiling._

"_Its just...," he began, his voice barely more than the murmur, "I've kind of being having some trouble with those myself...I'd ask Flitwick for help...but you know..."_

_Izzie stared at him confused, "SO?"_

"_Well...," he continued, still giving the ceiling his full attention, "I was wandering if...if we could help each other out."_

"_What, like study together?" Izzie's expression softened._

_The boy smiled, "Yeah...say in the library, tomorrow night?"_

_Izzie blushed more deeply than she had when Thom had been waving her homework around. Looking down her dark hair fell to cover her face, as she bit her lip._

"_Ok," came her muffled reply, "Eight?"_

"_Fantastic!" the boy beamed, "See you then."_

_He handed her back her work and bag, before standing up and offering her his hand. Izzie hesitated for a second, then took it. For a second, the two just stood facing out each other, feeling the tickle of the other's breath on their face. Then they each looked in different directions, mumbled good byes and set off in opposite directions._

_Halfway down the corridor, Izzie suddenly stopped dead and wheeled around._

"_Wait!"_

_The boy stopped and turned back to face her._

"_Whats your name?"_

"_Alexander...prefer Xander."_

"_I'm Izzie."_

_Through the empty shelves of the library, the sound of uncontrollable laughter, pure and joyous rang out. Madam Pince stalked down the rows to where Xander and Izzie were sitting, surrounding by books and almost on the verge of tears._

"_Enough," she hissed jabbing her hand at the piles of tomes on their table, "Enough you two, get out!"_

_Still howling, the pair packed up their bags and hurried for the door as the books they had been surrounded by leapt off the table and snapped at their heels. Pelting down two corridors, they finally came to a halt outside a disused classroom. Ducking inside, Izzie pulled Xander in after her and closed the door. Leant up against the wall, she could feel his quivering form next to her's. Outside the sound of snarling, snapping texts skidding to a halt came._

"_Shhhh," she giggled, clapping her hand over her mouth._

_The books paused a moment before the sound of scuttling dustcovers retreated back down the corridor. Izzie couldn't control herself anymore, she collapsed back into Xander's arms, shaking with mirth. Xander buried his face in her shoulder as he too chuckled hysterically._

"_I think we need more practice," Izzie panted, her breath stolen by laughter or from running from their set reading._

"_Yeah..." Xander replied, "F-Finite."_

_Released from the Charm, Izzie breathed deeply and lent forward onto Xander's chest._

"_You know, its been three weeks and you still suck," she whispered to him._

_Xander sighed, "Yeah...you too, but its been fun."_

_Izzie found herself with a smile that had nothing to do with the Cheering Charm. She felt his breath and heart quicken. Slowly she raised her gaze to meet Xander's. Two deep blue eyes wide with wonder, whilst his body quivered with the anticipation of the moment to come. Then they kissed._

_Breaking apart they looked at each other._

"_We can't submit that..." she sighed._

"_No," Xander murmured, still a little surprised, "No we can't."_

_They kissed again. _

_Two deep blue eyes..._

_A flash of red, a scream of pain and one of these bright blue eyes went out for ever. And with it went the innocence of its owner. _

"Keystone," Dawlish's voice brought her back.

His tall, slight frame lowered over her in the alcove, a rude violation of her perfect solitude.

"Get back to the room and carry on," he leered at her, "Have you been crying?"

Ever the arrogant insensitive...Izzie thought, getting to her feet.

Ramming Dawlish out of the way, she swept on down the hall back to the office. She couldn't think of those eyes, not now.

No, not now.


End file.
